


Radio Silence

by chaoticamanda



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Family, Grief, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4508433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticamanda/pseuds/chaoticamanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can they not be as upset as she is that he's gone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radio Silence

The ride to the safe spot where the Blues were waiting was mostly silent, Grif napping and Wash staring at Carolina with an intensity that Kimball couldn’t fathom a reason for. Carolina had dropped back into the pelican with a little stumble to her step, but otherwise fine. No one said anything, and now Kimball was stuck with her racing thoughts and Doyle’s last words in a strong lead for first place. How could the others not be more upset? For one, if Felix survived, he now had a sword. Second, Doyle, the coward boy general had _sacrificed_ himself for them!

Words were bubbling on her throat, and she figured they were better than the tears spilling down behind her helmet. She had hated Doyle, truly. He had been a coward, a frightened little man who could never be trusted to do anything right. But...he had died so that they could escape, hadn’t he? Kimball had shouted that that was what people did in a war, hadn’t _she?_

She let her head rest back on the metal of the compartment, focusing on the clank of their armor of the turbulence. It had been a long day, and she was tired.

 

“Anybody got any oreos?” Grif asked, his heavy feet hitting the ground as they all stepped out of the pelican. Caboose and Tucker were waiting for them, and Tucker had his sword out, the blue energy pulsing. Lopez dropped out and strode to the nose, his tools hanging from his waist.

“Doyle is dead,” Wash said shortly, his words slicing through Kimball. Her fingers began to twitch.

“Holy shit,” Tucker blurted, his sword losing it’s power as it fell from his hand, “We fucking failed.”

“We’re alive,” Simmons said faintly, pushing Grif out of the way and coming to his place in the semi-circle they formed subconsciously, “So it wasn’t a total failure.”

“Great,” Tucker rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, “So we’ve got a homicidal-- wait, scratch that, a _genocidal_ maniac with an energy sword and some high powered shit bent on killing us, and that was probably our last real shot at him, and the one person we _had_ to keep alive, died. That’s fucking fantastic. But hey, at least we’re alive.”

“It _is_ Tuesday,” Sarge muttered, setting his shotgun down with a sigh.

Epsilon blinked into existence by Carolina’s shoulder, out of breath, “Hey. Sorry, that shield took a lot...anyway, Simmons is right. It wasn’t a total failure.”

“We can get to the comm temple in the pelican, maybe before Felix can get anywhere, if he’s still alive…” Wash said thoughtfully, “...especially now that they don’t have Sharkface running around doing their dirty work. They’ll be caught off guard.”

Kimball listened with her mouth hanging open. Her thoughts were still on Doyle, and they had only spared him a sentence? And they called losing him, their biggest asset, not a complete failure?

“It’s not going to matter if Felix kills everyone after we send out the message,” Carolina said wryly,crossing her own arms, “We should split up into two teams.”

“Fishstick is dead?” Caboose gasped, one hand slapping against his chest with a dull thud.

“Yes, Caboose,” Wash said patiently, “Look, that bomb went off, so they’re short on men. Maybe we should just focus on--”

“We just killed like hundreds of guys, I’m gonna need to rest,” Grif complained, shaking his head, “We’ve never done so much before,Wash, you fucking know that.”

“Look, I hate to agree with fatass, but we need some rest. Can Epsil--” Simmons started, one hand suspended in the air.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Kimball threw off her helmet, the tan and blue hunk falling into the semi-circle.  Her face was blotchy and her eyes were puffy, but her eyes were swimming with rage.

“Hey, Vanessa--” Carolina began to raise her hands in an effort to calm the other woman down, but Kimball pulled out her pistol in a jerky motion. Wash responded immediately by drawing his own, level with her head. Doc’s hand shot out for Donut’s arm, and he let out a little shriek, “Oh my God!”

“Jesus, lady, calm down,” Grif shook his head.

“What is wrong, Miss Gumball?” Caboose asked sincerely, cocking his head to the side.

“What’s wrong?” She was bordering on hysterical, “What’s _wrong?_ Did you all miss the part where Doyle got himself _killed_ for us?”

“Oh, that’s..it?” Donut asked hesitantly, relaxing.

Kimball was practically foaming at the mouth, and she whipped her pistol around to Donut. “That’s it?” She questioned with the tinge of a mad man.

“Look, look, everybody just calm down. Vanessa, we get that you’re upset,” Carolina looked to Epsilon, “You’re not the only one who’s lost someone, okay?”

“We _all_ lost him!” Kimball cried, her aim wavering,  “How are you idiots not more upset?”

“We lost a good man today, and it is upsetting,” Sarge muttered, his hand raising to scratch at the back of his armor out of habit.

Wash lowered his arm, slipping his pistol back into it’s place, “It’s...it’s not the same.”

Kimball wheeled on him, barking out a sharp, “What?”

They all look anywhere but at her, all shuffling sheepishly, and even Wash and Carolina look uncomfortable. Her heart is pounding and she can practically hear Doyle and the tears are creeping back in again. It is the purple one, Doc, who steps forwards slowly. “I think...Kimball….Vanessa...we are upset about that Doyle guy. He saved us, and he died doing it. It’s just that...well, we’d be a lot more upset if it was one of us.”

“One of you?” She whispered, “One of _you?_ Do you idiots even understand what’s at--”

“God, can’t you just stop yelling for once?” Tucker blurted angrily, “You know, for someone who hated that guy--”

“Tucker,” Wash warned, stepping in between the two.

“What, Wash? What?” Tucker turned to him, throwing his hands up angrily, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I’m...I’m fucking relieved that for once, we’re not the goddamned ones that are dead! And I’m sorry that I can’t stand her yelling at us for not caring enough when we’ve lost enough friends for ten fucking lifetimes _already.”_ His voice broke on the last word, and Caboose let out a little gasp.

Tucker turned on his heel and began to stalk away from the group, back towards the pelican. After a beat, Caboose, Wash, Doc, and Donut went after him. Carolina stayed, shifting closer to the Reds.

“We really are sorry about Doyle, m-m’am,” Simmons offered, “...but like Tucker said...we’ve been through a lot. We’re...kind of used to it, shitty as that may be.”

“Yeah, forgive us if we seem a little, uh, crabby,” Grif said, clapping Simmons on the shoulder, “We’re hungry.”

“Shut the fuck up, turdbelly,” Sarge muttered, and the group lapsed into silence. Kimball was crying, her short hair a spiky mess, and she was staring after the others with a lost look.

Her lips trembled as she opened and closed her mouth as if she wanted to say something. Finally, she tore her eyes from the pelican and instead brought them to her helmet, dusty and worn on the ground. “I...I’m s-sorry…” she murmured in a wobbly voice, just as Carolina wrapped her arms around Kimball in a hug. _“I’m sorry.”_

 

 


End file.
